


Dawn Breaks

by WeeCoconutFlakes



Series: Sheaf's Chronicles [13]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Poetry, Song - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-07 17:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeCoconutFlakes/pseuds/WeeCoconutFlakes
Summary: It is time to take the fight to the heart of Duskstone's empire.





	1. Duskstone's Herald

“Dusktone, the tyrant who wore a king’s cloak.  
He robbed us in secret and tricked common folk.  
His Court burned the city,  
Killed their people in droves.  
But like its cousin, the phoenix,  
The Cockatrice rose.  
From the ashes of heroes  
Who held to the truth  
They were small, he was mighty  
But they fought nail and tooth.  
And soon, from the people,  
The Cockatrice grew.  
Ready to avenge  
The innocents he slew.”  
  


A minstrel song written of the ancient Cockatrice Rebellion. Many scholars disagree on the true spelling of the last line, often posing the line is intended to read as, “The innocence he slew.” A third camp argues the writer meant it to be ambiguous, meaning both “innocents” and “innocence.” The name of the poet is lost to history.


	2. Setting Sail

Signing up to join Cockatrice wasn’t difficult. There were recruiters around every corner, and the pair was quickly taken to a wagon bound for the new recruits’ training ground. On the city’s frontier, Sheaf and Plume found themselves in a clear field, the grass beaten down by thousands of footfalls, in line with dozens of other recruits.

“What are we doing here?” Plume asked. “Shouldn’t we go straight to the top?”

Sheaf shook his head. “Let us wait. We cannot be sure things have stayed the same since we left. We must see if Cockatrice still fights for freedom. Additionally, it would be unwise to cause trouble.”

“Fair enough.” Plume and Sheaf stood, waiting to see what would happen. A commanding officer was moving down the ranks, inspecting soldiers. As he got closer, Sheaf recognized the voice. He was dressed in a grey uniform that was practical, but denoted the position of an officer. Pim came to them and did a double take.

“Sheaf? Plume? I thought I’d seen the last of you lot.” He broke into a wide smile, and addressed the other recruits. “Shape up, lads, we have a pair from the dawn’s crew here!” the recruits straightened up and saluted, getting quizzical looks from Sheaf and Plume. “Us original crewmen get a bit of respect in the ranks. Come on, Nimma needs to see you.”

Plume and Sheaf were led to a small building, in which was Nimma, wearing a grey uniform, similar to the one Pim wore. A dragonborn stood beside her as they pored over maps.

The dragonborn was speaking as they entered. “by using the land-assault to draw attention, a swift naval force can move to-” he stopped. The dragonborn and Nimma looked up at Pim. Nimma’s face was full of shock for a moment.

“You two? What are you here for?”

Sheaf replied, “We heard you were ready to finish the fight, Captain. We are here to do the same.”

Nimma blinked several times before responding. She composed herself and said, “I need all the manpower I can get.” She turned to Pim. “Take them to the officers’ barracks. They’re colonels. Dismissed.” She then turned back to the dragonborn and they returned to their discussion.

Pim took them to another building, with several people they didn’t recognize, all wearing the same grey uniform. We’ll have to get you uniforms soon. Usually there’s more warning we’re getting new officers.” He then left, returning to the recruits. The other officers regarded the two with some confusion, but asked no questions.

Plume nudged Sheaf. “What the hell was that, do you suppose?”

“What do you mean?” Sheaf replied.

“She just... let me in,” Plume said, gesturing around.

“Ah. Perhaps she was so surprised that she forgot her grudge,” Sheaf said. “Or perhaps she has learned, since we left, the value of your abilities.”

Plume considered Sheaf’s words. “Huh. Well, she wouldn’t be the only one, I guess.” As he spoke, he fiddled with the flute hanging from his neck.

Plume perked up and asked Sheaf another question. “Hey, they’re not going to make us wear those uniforms, are they?”

Sheaf mused. “I am just as concerned. They appear to be somewhat restricting. Relative to my normal clothes, anyway.”

“I just think they look boring. Grey? Come on.”

Sheaf raised a brow. “Plume, your fur is grey.”

Plume started, not having considered this. “Perhaps,” he said, “but it is a much more interesting grey. Look, there’s patterns and some differentiation on me. Patterns. Those uniforms are just flat, slate grey.” They continued to banter for several hours, during which officers came and went. A perky halfling introduced herself.

“New officers, huh? I guess I finally outrank someone around here.”

“Perhaps,” Sheaf replied. “Where does ‘colonel’ fall on the scale?”

The halfling went wide-eyed for a moment, then hung her head. “A hell of a lot higher than me,” she grumbled.

Plume smirked. “Yeah, well, you know more than we do, so I think you have the advantage.”

“That’s a good point.” She stuck out her hand. “The name’s Jelmiphi. Call me Jel.”

Sheaf cocked his head. “Jelmiphi? That sounds very gnommish.”

“I was raised by gnomes.” She laughed. “Only time in my life I’ve been bigger than anyone.”

“What’s the culture like around here, Jel?” Sheaf asked.

Jel gave nervous smile. “Ah, I’m probably not the best person to ask, I have a unique experience, you know? I’m not really well-liked by a lot of the others, in all honesty,” she said.

Plume raised a brow. “Why, I simply can’t imagine that.”

“Ah, you’re too kind. It’s because I’m not really a soldier.” She pushed her hair back. “I’m more of a scientist.”

“Interesting,” Sheaf said. “I don’t suppose you’re working on anything right now?”

Jel’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I am. I’m working with a partner on something really big, actually.”

“How big, exactly?” Plume asked.

“Well, I can’t say too much...”

“Technically we’re your superiors.”

Jel smirked, and leaned closer. “It’s a bomb. A huge one. Level a castle big.”

Sheaf cocked his brow. “How are you going about this?”

“Chemistry, ingenuity, and a bit of magical assistance.”

“Not a problem those can’t solve,” Plume mused.

“Ah yes,” Sheaf said. “Chemistry is surely one of your greatest expertises.”

“Is that so?” Jel asked?

“No, that was an example of kenku sarcasm, one that I commend you for, my friend.”

“I try my best.”

Jel was grinning. “You two seem like an absolute riot.”

The trio made quick friends, and for the next few days, they conversed at great lengths. It was a week later that all officers were called together. Nimma stood in front of them all.

“Soon, we will make our final stand. High Stone City stands to the west. Duskstone Castle stands against the sea, facing the city below it. Our assault will be threefold. First, we will take the city itself with a guerilla attack, using stealth to ensure the enemy is left unawares. We will then move our greater army into the city, and launch an assault on the castle from the front. This will be a diversion for a small naval unit.

“These ships are the crux of our plan. Normally, the sea-facing side of Duskstone Castle is protected by powerful anti-naval cannons. Using our diversion, we can create a window of time long enough for a single swift ship to move in close. Of course, the castle is well fortified, but we have a solution. Lieutenant Jelmiphi, will you explain?”

Jel stood, and took the floor. “My colleague and I have been working, and have designed sufficient artillery and a delivery method to destroy the wall of the castle.” She looked to Nimma, who waved her on. “With this opening, a small team will be able to get into the castle. Lieutenant General Pim proposed a name for this team, one I find quite appropriate, the Dawn Squad.” There was an agreeing murmur through the crowd. “They will take with them another bomb, with which they will attack the Duskstone Court.” She gathered her thoughts, and continued.

“In order to destroy Duskstone’s reign, we will need to destroy the entire Court. Information from a spy has revealed a small chamber under the Court’s safe room, where they will go following our attack. With this bomb, and a very long fuse, we will be able to plant, light, and leave the area; then, if you’ll excuse my dropping of formality, blow them to hell.”

Nimma stepped back to the front. “Well said, Lieutenant. I will be spearheading the naval assault, as our swiftest ship is mine, the Cockatrice. Colonel Ilaks will direct the guerilla unit,” she said, indicating the dragonborn she’d developed the plan with. “The rest of our soldiers will be part of the diversionary assault. Prepare your soldiers.” She stepped away, and the officers began to talk amongst themselves.

Plume wore a grin. “Did you hear that, Sheaf? We’re going to sail on the Cockatrice again.”

Sheaf furrowed his brow. “Nimma will be on the Cockatrice. As far as we know, we are to be in the diversion.”

Plume scoffed. “Forget that. I’m no diversion. I am the center of attention!”

Sheaf cocked his head. “Would the diversion not be the ideal place for the center of attention?”

Plume opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Okay, poor phrasing. The point is, I’m going in that castle. In any case, we’re taking the fight straight to the source, it’s exciting!”

Sheaf shook his head with amusement. “Glad to have you here, then.”

It was a week later that Pim went around, informing everyone who was to be on the ship. Sheaf and Plume were chosen, as “any officers with sailing experience and without a troop are to be on the ship.” As they boarded the ship, they saw Jel.

“You’re aboard too?” Plume asked.

“Yeah, we’re going to operate the breach’s delivery.”

“How will it be delivered, by the way?” Sheaf asked.

Jel pointed to what appeared to be a trebuchet attached to the starboard deck. “When we get close enough, we’ll drop the breach in that, and fling it. It was a real trick to design, actually. We couldn’t use magic, since that would interfere with the breach’s own magic. I actually can’t claim too much credit on the trebuchet. That was mostly the work of my ingenious partner.”

A voice said from behind them. “Be that as it may, it’d be for naught if we didn’t have your rather, shall I say, volatile creations.”

Plume recognized the voice, and wheeled around to see Twist, the gnome tinkerer from Fellshine. “Twist! You’re with Cockatrice!”

“In a manner of speaking. And I see you’ve joined back up.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss something like this.”

“Have you been taking care of that flute?”

Plume gripped the flute hanging from his neck. “Like my own child.”

Twist nodded. “Good to hear, friend.”

“And good to see you as well.”

Twist bowed, and Plume responded in kind.

Jel raised her eyebrow, and turned to Sheaf for an explanation.

“Bards,” he said.

“Twist is a bard?”

“In his own way, it seems.”

As the ship neared its destination, the atmosphere grew more dire. Nimma gathered three other crew members near the stern, who Sheaf assumed to be the Dawn Squad. The castle appeared over the horizon, and the crew braced itself for a fight. As they drew close, they saw three massive cannons aimed at the sea, ready to fire.

A crewman yelled out, “Their cannons are ready! The diversion failed!” Nimma signaled a robed man near her, and he raised his hands. As the cannons’ fuses were lit, they morphed, the strong iron turning to wood before the soldiers’ eyes. The fuse disappeared into the cannon, and the black powder exploded, sending burning splinters in every direction as wooden cannonballs fell harmlessly into the ocean.

Nimma gave another signal, and Twist and Jel ran to the trebuchet, lugging their breach. Sheaf and Plume moved to help them.

“You want to help?” Jel asked. “Take this.” Jel gave Sheaf the breach, a large bomb. It was heavy, but manageable for the kenku. Her hands now free, Jel proceeded to help Twist prepare the trebuchet. With the bomb loaded and ready to launch, Nimma gave the command to fire.

At that moment, archers lined up to replace the cannons. Three arrows flew and hit their marks, lodging themselves in the chest of the mage and neck of the other presumed Dawn Squad members. They all hit the ground, unmoving.

Nimma looked at them, and then back up at her crew. “Sheaf!” she shouted. “You’re coming with me.” Sheaf nodded, and prepared himself. Plume readied too.

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” he said.

Jel looked at the two of them, and set back to work, grabbing the second bomb. It was much larger, attached to straps to make it possible to carry.

Nimma came down from the stern. “Are you ready?”

“We are,” he responded.

“We?” she asked, before her eyes landed on Plume. “No. I won’t have it.”

Plume shook his head. “I’m not letting Sheaf go alone. You need more help.”

“If I needed more help I’d seek it from someone capable.”

“And what do you know about my capabilities?”

“Enough that I don’t want you in my way.”

Sheaf interjected. “With due respect, Captain, we do not have time for this. You will not be able to convince him to stay, and you can’t force him in time either. If I may speak freely, I believe you should try neither.”

Nimma wore an exasperated face. “Fine.” She turned to Plume. “But if you’re in my way for a second, I will cut you down.” She punctuated her point with a raised sword. She then turned and took hold of a rope, swinging into the new hole in the side of the castle. Sheaf followed, and Plume swung in last, rolling onto the rubble-strewn flagstone.


	3. "The Day Dawn Broke"

A clear day broke, the waves clean and calm,  
The spray of salt in the air.  
It flew and broke through, a secret world,  
Rubble poured through the air.  
An old friend met, another saved.  
A tyrant cut our plan short, as well as a new friend,  
One by one, all the heroes fell.  
A strange magic ripped the air,  
One by one, all the heroes fell.  
A brave dance with no victor,  
One by one, all the heroes fell.  
He took flight finally, through fire and stone,  
One by one, all the heroes fell.  
They fell.  
They left a fool,  
A jester,  
A bard who writes this tribute  
To the heroes who all fell,  
The day dawn broke.


	4. The Assault

Plume sprung up from the ground as rubble crumbled behind him, caving in the hole in the wall, leaving only small gaps for sunlight to lazily drift inside. Everything was eerily quiet.

“Explain to me what happened,” Sheaf asked of Nimma.

“With the cannons?” she asked. “I guess it’s safe to explain. It was inevitable Duskstone had spies within our ranks. Rather than trying to hide from them, we made sure they put our biggest obstacle where we could deal with it.”

“So you drew cannons toward the ship?” Plume asked.

“Where the mage could disable them,” Sheaf replied. Nimma nodded, and walked forward. Sheaf began to follow, but he heard something. He set down the bomb and turned, advancing on the noise. He rounded a column and brought a dagger to the throat of someone wearing a familiar mask.

“Wow, Sheaf, quick reaction.” Sheaf lowered his dagger, and looked quizzically at Key.

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you.”

At her voice, Plume perked up and ran to the pillar. “Key!”

Key stared for a moment, then took her mask off. “Well, I suppose I don’t need this anymore, do I?”

Plume thought for a moment. “Yeah okay, that was rash, but can you blame me? You’re here!”

Key rolled her eyes. “Yes. I am, and it’s good to see you. Both of you. Now--” she was suddenly cut short by the door at the head of the room slamming open. Two of Duskstone’s guards scrambled in, brandishing weapons.

“It’s over, you rebels!” one of them yelled. Key turned, and her eyes took on a familiar glow. She moved to attack, but suddenly a dagger flew through the air, burying itself in her abdomen. Plume ran to her side as a mysterious voice filled the room.

It was like a whisper, but it boomed through the room. “They are mine.” The guards looked nervous, shrinking away. Sheaf tried to pinpoint the source of the voice. Plume whispered a quiet song, gently pulling the dagger out of Key, healing the wound in its place. Sheaf threw a dagger into a shadow, and a man appeared in the center of the room, as if melting from a mist in the shadows. He was a drow, wearing a blindfold and wielding a dagger. He struck Sheaf as familiar, as did the way he suddenly appeared.

“A monk,” he said. “You trained at Ganden.”

The drow turned his head. “I destroyed Ganden. Just as I will you.” It was the same voice that whispered through the room before, but now Sheaf recognized it. The drow disappeared into the shadows again, but this time Sheaf moved with him, clashing sword against dagger as he reappeared. With a swift move the drow disarmed Sheaf, moving behind him and holding the dagger to his throat.

“It is rare I get to make myself known to my targets, so you must forgive me for indulging. I will be brief. I am the Spymaster.”

“You are Gorm,” Sheaf responded.

Gorm pressed the dagger closer to Sheaf’s throat. “That name again!” He hesitated as he composed himself. “How do you know it?”

“It is your name. You were one of my closest friends. What are you doing here?”

Gorm spoke in whispers. “Zaon…” He moved around to face Sheaf, staring him in the eye. “Sheaf? Sheaf.” He glanced to the side. “Key... “ He gritted his teeth. “Damn it.” He disappeared, reappearing between the two guards, with daggers drawn. He stabbed both guards, letting their bodies drop with the daggers in their throats. He looked at Key, then Sheaf, and held his head in his hands, face contorted in pain. “So confusing,” he seethed.

Plume stood from Key’s side. “You’re telling me. What the hell is going on?”

Sheaf stepped back into the center of the chamber. “I believe Gorm has just regained lost memories.”

Key stood, and looked at Gorm. “It’s been a while.”

“So it has. I see the years have been strange to you as well.” He paused. “In a manner of speaking, of course,” he said, gesturing at the blindfold.

“Did you really destroy Ganden?”

Gorm looked away, guiltily. “What was left of it. Master Ichagon, Master Lace… and Ku.” Gorm paused once more. “No. He did. The Spymaster.”

Sheaf nodded. “It wasn’t you.”

Gorm shook his head. “I’ll dwell on it later. What are you doing here?”

Sheaf lifted the bomb, saying, “This needs to go in the chamber below the court.”

Gorm stepped over to it. “I know the place. I’ll take it.”

Nimma stepped in. “No. How do we know you won’t betray us?” She raised her sword to him. “Why shouldn’t I kill you now?”

Sheaf and Key simultaneously glared at her. “Get that sword away from him,” growled Key. Nimma narrowed her eyes and slowly lowered the rapier.

Gorm nodded at her. “I understand you have little reason to trust me. However, I owe Key and Sheaf my life, many times over,” he said, turning his head to Sheaf and Key. “Though I’m not sure they know it.”

He shook his head. “There’s no time for this. Your bomb will be placed safely.” After a moment’s hesitation, Nimma relented, turning and waving him on. Gorm nodded at the other monks as he picked the bomb up and hurried through the doorway. Plume continued to worry at Key.

“It’s fine, Plume,” she said. “You got it. It’s healed.”

Plume took a moment to compose himself. “Alright. Sorry, it’s just been a while, and it really came out of nowhere, and…” he trailed off as he looked into her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

Key couldn’t resist breaking her stoicism, and let out a smile. “You damn charmer,” she said, before kissing him. “I missed you too.”

“Astounding,” said Sheaf, getting their attention. “I have spent my whole life studying and chasing a perfect understanding of ki, the inner workings of people, and yet I still do not understand what you two do that for.”

Key and Plume laughed, and the tabaxi stepped to his friend. “Romance isn’t something that can be taught, I’m afraid.”

Sheaf furrowed his brow, leaning against a nearby pillar. “Nor do I want it to be.”

Plume’s laughter was interrupted by Gorm’s return. “It’s placed, here’s the end of the fuse,” he said, raising a bundle of fuse.

Key put her hand out. “Toss it here. I’ll light it.”

Gorm prepared to throw, but stopped dead. He dropped the bundle, and his hand went to his abdomen to feel the tip of the blade thrust through him. It pulled back, and when he fell, behind him stood Khurain Duskstone, a wicked smile on his face as he silently stepped over the dying body. He looked down.

“Such a shame, dear Spymaster. You were one of my greatest soldiers yet.” In Duskstone’s hand was the bomb. He dropped it on the floor. “This is yours, of course.”

“You bastard!” Key yelled out. She ran at him and prepared a fireball. He reached into his cloak and quickly produced a small, crystal device. He tapped it, and a magical wave ripped through the room. Key’s eyes widened, and her flame extinguished. She landed in a heap, meters short of her target. Plume cried out and ran to her, blowing frantic notes into his flute.

“It’ll do no good, cat.” Plume looked up at the tyrant with fire in his eyes. “You’re only prolonging her suffering.” Duskstone regarded the device in his hands. “A curious thing the mages have created; it’s for the hunts, you see. It targets her elemental ki.” A smile spread across his lips. “And hers is quite powerful, isn’t it? How unfortunate.” Plume glanced to Sheaf, who was still hidden behind his pillar. The kenku was doubled over, but was able to keep his feet. He must have been feeling the effects too, though he seemed in better shape than Key.

Duskstone cast his eyes around the room. “I do believe this is a collection of the biggest thorns in my side. The Belker, I assume. That mask is hers, isn’t it?” Duskstone gave a short laugh. “The Belker had always been reported to me as a man. Even now you have surprises. And you, bard,” he said, addressing Plume. “You must be the tabaxi that’s been cutting my contacts throughout the kingdom. Where’s your kenku friend? Most curious.”

He turned, and cocked his head at Nimma. “And the guest of honour. The good general. I must say, I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time.” Duskstone grinned, and took a step toward Nimma, his boot clicking on the flagstone. He looked down. “That’s run out, has it? Very well.”

Plume was in between Nimma and Duskstone, and saw the king reach into his cloak, producing a small grenade. Duskstone threw it at Nimma. It was as if things moved in slow motion. The grenade passed over him, and he drew his sword. He was too late to save Gorm. He was helpless to save Key. He was going to do something, damnit. He dove backwards, toward the grenade. He swung at the explosive, knocking it far upwards, into the ceiling. He landed under where it exploded. The ceiling was already cracked after the bombardment, and the grenade loosened several pieces of rubble, which crashed down onto him.

Nimma looked back, realizing the grenade was for her. She looked at Duskstone, a new resolve in her eyes.

“I hear you’re a master of swordplay,” said Duskstone, drawing a rapier. “Let us see who is more practiced.” Nimma had her sword readied, and approached him. The two circled each other, studying the other’s movements and searching for a weakness. Duskstone was the first to strike, a cautious swing that was easily parried. Nimma responded with a thrust that was batted away.

While the two fenced, Plume, trapped under rubble, saw Sheaf, slowly beginning to recover from the magic device. He was still a long way off, but there was some hope. Plume turned his attention to the debris atop him. The rock crushed into him. He’d long lost feeling in his left arm. His feeble attempts to free himself achieved nothing. He couldn’t reach his flute, either, though it had survived the rockfall.

His observations were cut short by the sudden sound of clashing steel. He tilted his head to see Duskstone and Nimma in a viscous melee, almost a blur of attacks, replies, parries and ripostes. He was no stranger to fencing, but the battle between them was like a dance, between the two masters of their craft. Precise strikes and minute footwork; the way they read each other seemed like a tediously planned performance.

Plume sharply inhaled when the performance ceased suddenly. Both fencers had thrust their blades simultaneously, both piercing its target with deadly aim. Nimma’s teeth ground and her face burned with anger at Duskstone, who’s smug facade was breaking under the pain.

“You,” he spoke, grimacing sharply. “What they say is true.” Nimma continued glaring, silently. “Come now, general,” Duskstone continued, his voice faltering. “So close, and yet you fall short. Let us hear your final words.”

Nimma closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. While Duskstone had been talking, she had been searching his pockets. She came away with the device, and threw it to the ground. It shattered.

“Sheaf! Finish this,” she shouted. She then collapsed, having used the last of her strength. Immediately, Sheaf felt the device’s debilitating effects pass, and stepped from behind the pillar. He moved to Nimma, checking her and Duskstone. They were both dead. He picked up the bomb.

“Sheaf,” Plume groaned.

“The fuse is cut,” replied Sheaf.

“Damn.”

“I will have to take it.”

Plume snapped his head to Sheaf. “No. You’d never get away from the explosion in time.”

“There is no other way.”

Plume struggled against the rubble more. “Get me out from under here, Sheaf.”

Sheaf shook his head. “I cannot. You will try to stop me, or join me.”

“You’re not going down there alone, you insane bird!”

“The others will find you. You will be okay.”

“But you won’t! I’m not letting you go alone!”

“You cannot choose.” With that, he walked away. Plume yelled at him, begging the kenku to let him out. It seemed he went on for hours, but his screaming was cut short when he heard the explosion. It was the loudest thing he’d ever heard, and violently shook the ground beneath him. Dazed, Plume lay. His throat was hoarse, his body battered, and he was surrounded by death.

The revolution was won.


	5. Epilogue

So, I survived. Sheaf was right, of course, he usually was. Cockatrice’s other soldiers found me, and brought me back to safety. I was nursed back to health, my broken arm re-set and healed. I was hailed as a hero, in fact. I spent a long time trying to get back to my old self. I travelled again, town to town, but it wasn’t the same. I saw many places, met many interesting people, made love to plenty of them, of course, but it all blurred together, leaving me wanting.

Eventually I found myself back here, in Fellshine, in the College. I’ve written poems, songs, and whatever came to mind, but this is my true work. Even now, as I write I must calm myself so my pen does not shake too much.

For the last year I’ve laboured to set down what I remember, researching all the information I can to ensure everyone at that final assault are remembered for who they were, as heroes; and to make sure the whole story is told. After all, that’s what I do. Tell stories.

Now I end the collection, all the stories that I felt must be set down, remembered in writing and hailed as legends. I cannot say that everything said here is perfectly accurate, but I’ve done all I can to be true to the events and people I write of.

In honour of my closest friend, who taught me more than I could learn in millennia of study, and who seemed to understand more than any could, I’ve named this collection after him. I hope you find what you seek in these, Sheaf’s Chronicles.

-Inked Plume, Bard of Fellshine, Survivor of Cockatrice, and Adventurer Once Again


End file.
